


the most romantic date in the history of forever

by ophelianipples



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Date, Pack Shenanigans, hints at scallisac and sterek, kinda gory, middle aged romance, parrish is the hero this town needs, show-level gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelianipples/pseuds/ophelianipples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa and the Sheriff finally go on an official date, and the Pack has a mission to make it PERFECT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CODE BLUE

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't want to call the Sheriff John but too tired to think up a name, oh well
> 
> un-beta'ddddd

"Hey, son.."

Stiles looks up at his dad leaning against the doorframe, fidgeting.

"Hey, dad..? What's eating ya?"

The Sheriff straightens his coat, looking vaguely uncomfortable. He clears his throat.

"I won't be home until late tonight, I uh.. I have a date."

Stiles topples out of his spinny-chair with a yelp, limbs flailing to express his excitement. "Dad! That's awesome! I mean as long as they aren't a villain, remember when Uncle Petey, bless his soul, took Melissa out to threaten Scott? They're not supernatural are they? Do you want me to like, throw some wolfsbane at them before you go, double-che -"

"Stiles!" The Sheriff interrupts, knowing that Stiles could go on like this indefinitely. "She's not supernatural - she's - well, it's funny that you should mention Melissa because, uh - "

"You're going on a date with _Melissa!"_ Stiles feels like his grin might literally split his face in half. _"Finally!"_ He holds up his hand for a hi-five, earning a withering glare from his father (it's a _fond_ glare, okay? Stiles is very familiar with them).

"Yes well, the point is, I'm leaving at 7:30 and I won't be back until late. So. Now you know." 

 

~

 

Stiles waits until his dad has gone back downstairs before fumbling for his phone and sending out a group message - _"CODE BLUE 7:30 TONIGHT, IT'S HAPPENING!!!!!!"_

In the lull between supernatural threats after the nemeton, Scott and Stiles developed a perhaps slightly unhealthy interest in their parents (finally) getting together. With Scott's biological dad back in town and the Sheriff now in the know about the supernatural, it was perfect timing. So they called a pack meeting and devised a plan to facilitate the perfect date. On their parents' first date, there would be no supernatural bullshit. It would be the most romantic date in the history of forever. They were determined.

Although most of the pack had thought it was veeeery creepy, Stiles can be very persuasive. That's how he knows that right now, the pack is preparing for 7:30, the beginning of the date that will make Stiles and Scott brothers. 

Stiles can't resist doing a Mr. Burns impression, steepling his fingers as he goes over the plan in his head. Eeexcellent...

 

~

 

"Do _not_ let Stiles run into his car, Scott! I swear this date isn't with the bad guy of the month."

Scott stares at Melissa warily. "Mum… it's not. You know. I know dad's back in town - "

 _"No,_ it's nothing like that, Scott."

"Sorry, mum - I didn't think - I just mean, okay, who is it?"

A sly grin spreads across her face. "John. Stilinksi."

Scott grins back at her, pulling her into a hug. 

"Mum, that's awesome! I, uh, well Stiles was going to come over tonight. But we can go out?"

"Oh come on honey, I'm not bringing him back here after the first date… we'll go to his house!" She winks, and Scott mimes throwing up.

"I don't want to know!"

His phone buzzes as Melissa kisses him on the cheek and goes to get ready. Scott knows what the text will say. 

 

~

 

Derek stares at the text message for a long time. He has a good book and a mug of hot chocolate lined up, his nook in the loft (a far away from _that_ spot as physically possible) warm and inviting.

He doesn't want to give it up for the frankly demeaning task of being the personal bodyguard of Stiles and Scott's parents. No matter how cute they would be together. And how much they deserve to be happy.

It's 7:27. He sighs, throws his book down, grabs his keys and leaves the loft.

 

~

 

Melissa can't help but grin at the shy smile the Sheriff is sporting when she opens the door. 

"Hey," she said, reminding herself not to feel awkward around John, of all people. "Uh.. how are you? You look nice."

"Thanks, Mel. You too, you look, well - amazing, really, uh, really nice. As well." 

He's blushing. The Sheriff of Beacon Hills is blushing and _stammering_ like a schoolboy. She barely suppresses a _'naaaaw!'_ and fidgets with the hem of her shirt. 

"Thanks. Uh. So. Shall we?"

She holds out her arm, he takes it with a wry grin, and they walk towards the car.

Scott watches from the upstairs window, clutching his phone and squealing down the line at Stiles. 

"Dude," he gushes excitedly, "they are so fucking cute! They are going to have the best date ever!"


	2. baby you're a firework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everything is going well... until it isn't. #classicbeaconhills

  
"Hey, Derek. Thanks for - you know - turning up for this. I'm glad I didn't have to follow them around and listen to them bitch about me."  
  
Scott smiles and pats Derek's shoulder, ignoring his grumpy pout.  
  
"Thanks Scott, I am really looking forward to listening to your parents flirt awkwardly all night. There is literally nothing else I would rather be doing."  
  
Scott shrugs and grins. "Sorry dude, nothing's gonna get me down tonight." He pauses, fixing Derek to the spot with a hard stare. "Well, nothing but my mum getting hurt while she's on a date with her soul mate."  
  
Derek sighs and nods almost imperceptibly. Whatever, Scott know he's a goddamn martyr. Derek is the only other pack member that Scott really trusts to take a bullet for someone else's parents (and not die as a result).  
  
Scott punches Derek in the shoulder happily, shifts, and runs off into the trees. 

  
~  
  
  
They go to dinner at the second best restaurant in town. They have an unspoken agreement to not revisit the places that they used to take dates, preferring to brave the sub-par food rather than the memories.

  
The Sheriff feels a bit overwhelmed, to be honest. He hasn't been on a date for years, but he refuses to think about why. It's time to move on from - well, time to move on. And he may or may not have been nursing (ha!) a little crush on Melissa for a while now.   
  
She's rolling her eyes and talking about Scott being a werewolf (and yeah, okay, John is still having a hard time accepting all that), how he suddenly wants to 'scent' her all the time and won't go near her until she's changed out of her scrubs.  
  
And no, he doesn't imagine what she might look like, peeling her scrubs off and stretching after a long shift at work. Get your mind out of the gutter.

  
~  


  
"Come and help me get this stuff out of the car."  
  
Stiles runs out of the house to meet Lydia, whose car is filled with  - wow, candles, cushions, a CD player and a stack of CDs (because old people and iPods don't mix, right?) - everything you could possibly need for a romantic night in.   
  
"Oh my God, Lydia. You are amazing!"  
  
Lydia worked her magic on the lounge room and dining room as Stiles texted his dad. The perfect texts - subtle, funny, and serious all at the same time.  
  
**7:45pm.**   
_Dad! I've set up the living room for you and Melissa, it's VERY romantic, PRETEND THAT YOU SET IT UP OKAY???!! Trust me she will love it._   
  
**_7:45pm._ **   
_I'm even putting a fresh ring of mountain ash around the house, nothing supernatural can get within 100 metres.Thank me later._   
  
**_7:46pm_ **   
_I'm sexiling myself to Scott's place, now have fun and BE SAFE, I LOVE YOU BOTH YOU HAVE MY BLESSING A MILLION TIMES OVER_   
  
Okay, so maybe subtle was the wrong word. Whatever. He and Lydia put the final touches on the living room and check the whole house for anything unusual. No point accidentally trapping something freaky inside the house with the lovebirds.  


  
  
~

  
  
John's phone beeps in his pocket, 3 times in quick succession. He checks them, with no small amount of trepidation. It would be pretty typical of Beacon Hills for some freaky supernatural crap to start going down during the first date he's had in a decade.  
  
The anxiety gets a bit stronger when he sees Stiles's name on the message, but then he reads it and. Oh God.    
  
"What is it?"  
  
He catches the look of concern on Melissa's face and hurries to remove it. "Nothing bad - just Stiles giving us 'his blessing' …he is apparently 'sexiling' himself to your place."  
  
He grimaces apologetically, feeling his face blush blotchily. There is entirely too much blushing going on tonight for his liking. Melissa laughs out loud, and John suspects it's the first real laugh she's had in ages. Near-human-sacrifice-experiences can have that effect.   
  
He watches her eyes crinkle up and sparkle, and thinks, _she really is beautiful._  
  
  
~  
  
  
Stiles and Lydia place some protective charms around the house, just to be safe. They text everyone, checking in. Scott, Allison and Isaac are patrolling the industrial areas of Beacon Hills. Derek is circling Melissa and the Sheriff _(_ in a very not-creepy way, thank you very much), and Erica and Boyd are keeping an eye on the edge of the preserve. Hopefully between the 5 of them they can stop anything from happening that would ruin the romantic atmosphere.  
  
Meanwhile, Stiles and Lydia are in charge of _enhancing_ the romantic atmosphere. Lydia did the maths, and they found the perfect spot to let off fireworks so that they could be seen from Stiles's lounge room window. Fireworks are romantic, right? They're heading to a clearing in the preserve, so they get Erica and Boyd to help them out.  
  
"Don't you think this is kind of going overboard?" Erica says skeptically, eyeing the piled of fireworks in Stiles arms warily. Stiles bares his teeth at her.  
  
"No, _obviously,_ these fireworks will light the spark of their love! They'll forever be a symbol of their relationship! Every fireworks display will become a celebration of the night Melissa McCall and John Stilinski consummated their - "  
  
"Ew! Shut up! They're _old,_ Stiles - "  
  
"- THEIR LOVE IS ETERNAL!" Stiles fumbled, almost dropping some fireworks in his agitation. "THEY DESERVE THE BEST, ERICA - "  
  
"...uh, guys?"  
  
"Yeah but I don't want to hear about their _consummation,_ Stiles, fuck - "  
  
"look, my dad is a hottie and you know it. Erica, I didn't want to tell you this, but you're the _reason_ we put that mountain ash barrier up, the jealousy might have - "  
  
" _GUYS."_  
  
An eerie silence falls as Erica and Stiles stop bickering, glance at Boyd, then look up.   
  
And they know they shouldn't be surprised. Because this is _Beacon Hills._


	3. oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stiles, drive!" Lydia slaps Stiles over the back of his head and he kicks into action, watching through the rear view mirror as the tree-thingies pursue them, surprisingly fast.
> 
> "Uuuuuuugh," Stiles groans, slapping the steering wheel. "Beacon Hills fucking sucks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short :(

  
There are eyes staring down at them from the trees, glinting ominously.   
  
"Ooookay." Stiles says quietly. "What. Are those."   
  
"I can't smell them," Erica whispers back, and she grabs him arm, starts to drag him away.   
  
They can hear _something_ rustling, as if the things are crawling down from the trees.   
  
"Let's _go,"_ Lydia hisses, and she and Stiles take off, run towards the Jeep. Boyd and Erica position themselves in front and behind the two humans, growling at the things coming down from the trees.   
  
They all make it to the Jeep, and Stiles looks back towards the edge of the Preserve.    
  
"Well that is truly fucking weird," he observes, ignoring Lydia's protests and squinting towards the trees. There are… little _people_ standing there. But they're not - they're definitely not _human,_ and Stiles isn't just saying that because he saw them all appear in the  trees. They actually _look_ like trees. The size of saplings, they appear to have a thick layer of bark and long, pointed branches for fingers - really _sharp_ long branches, actually, and - oh, okay, they're moving towards the Jeep.    
  
"Stiles, _drive!"_ Lydia slaps Stiles over the back of his head and he kicks into action, watching through the rear view mirror as the tree-thingies pursue them, surprisingly fast.   
  
"Uuuuuuugh," Stiles groans, slapping the steering wheel. "Beacon Hills fucking _sucks."_

 


	4. bowtruckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are - things following us into town, they came down out of the trees. They look like trees."
> 
> Derek jumps up, hiding himself behind a waiter as he leaves the restaurant.
> 
> "Where were you? It sounds like - is Stiles with you? Only he would accidentally cross over into bowtruckle territory. Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my chapters are really inconsistent in terms of length and stuff, sozza
> 
> unbeta'd

  
Derek is sitting a few tables down from Melissa and the Sheriff, having stealthily snuck in behind them and hidden behind his menu.  Sucking morosely on his milkshake straw, he wishes he brought his book with him. He keeps accidentally hearing snippets of Melissa and the Sheriff's conversation, and it feels like a violation of their privacy. Especially when they talk about personal stuff, family -  "don't worry, if Rafael gets too clingy I'll have a restraining order put on him, FBI or no FBI" - "I was so worried about Stiles that the werewolf thing was actually a relief - I thought his behaviour was some kind of karma for losing it after - _Claudia_ \- and not taking care of him…"   
  
Derek is relieved when his phone rings, and he scrambles to pick it up, glancing at the caller ID - "Lydia?"  
  
"Derek. We have a problem."  
  
Derek sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
  
" _What."_  
  
"There are - _things_ following us into town, they came down out of the trees. They _look_ like trees."  
  
Derek jumps up, hiding himself behind a waiter as he leaves the restaurant.  
  
"Where were you? It sounds like - is Stiles with you? Only he would accidentally cross over into _bowtruckle_ territory. Fuck."  
  
He listens to scuffling and yelling, as Stiles presumably grabs the phone.   
  
"Did you just say bowtruckles? Like in Harry Potter?"  
  
"Yes, bowtruckles - "  
  
"You've read Harry Potter?"  
  
"Of course I've fucking read - ugh. Not the point." _Focus, Derek. "_ Bowtruckles are very territorial but they can be negotiated with. I just have to… remember what to say. Or find it written down somewhere."   
  
Derek heard familiar voices coming from the shop entrance.  
  
"Fuck, Stiles, your parents are leaving the restaurant."  
  
"Fuck! Fucking follow them Derek and make sure they're safe! _Fucking - "_  
  
Derek half-listens as he follows the Sheriff and Melissa from a safe distance. It sounds as if Lydia is wrestling the phone off Stiles, telling him to drive faster -   
  
"Derek? They're following us. What do we do?"  
  
Derek cranes his neck, watching Melissa and the Sheriff get into the car, shut the doors. They're safe, relatively, so he concentrates on the conversation.  
  
"We can negotiate. I was learning about negotiation before - before the fire, but I'd only just started, really…" he growls in frustration, he can't fucking _remember._ "We're going to have to look it up, there's a specific thing we need to say - meanwhile, shit, okay. Meanwhile, we'll just have to… make sure they don't fuck the town up."  
  
Lydia sighs heavily. "What are we up against? How dangerous are they?"  
  
Derek makes the admittedly questionable decision to follow the sheriff's car on foot, huffing down the phone as he switches on the supernatural speed.   
  
"Fingers. Like in - ugh - yes, like in Harry Potter. Fucking sharp fingers. Not very smart. Not violent unless you cross into their _fucking_ territory."  
  
He pauses to catch his breath, rolls his eyes at Lydia's long-suffering sigh.   
  
"Parents should be fine. Expect property damage. They won't attack others, only you and your territory."   
  
"Perfect," Lydia replies sarcastically. "Stiles and I will just sit around and wait to be impaled by bowtruckle fingers, never mind us."


	5. anything could happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stiles told you about the mountain ash, right? Just get inside his house, like, ASAP, and you don't have to worry about anything."
> 
> Melissa rolls her eyes at John. "You know that won't stop us worrying about you kids. And tell Derek not to lurk around the house while we're in there unless he wants to listen to us - "
> 
> Scott cuts in with a gagging sound. "I don't want to know! Just - enjoy your date, okay? I have to go before you scar me for life, oh my God."

Melissa frowns at the rear-view mirror. She could swear there's something moving out there, but she doesn't want to say anything because, honestly, it's probably just paranoia after the whole kidnapping fiasco.

"What's wrong?" John reaches a hand over, brushes her fingers. Because he can do that now and it's kind of amazing.

"Aren't you supposed to turn off your detective brain outside of work?"

"Mel." He looks in the rear view mirror, mimicking her body language.

She sighs. "I just thought I saw something, but… you know. probably just a fox."

"This is Beacon Hills, Mel. When is it ever just a fox?"

 

~

 

"Heeey Scotty, how you doin'?"

Scott recognises that tone immediately. "What's wrong, Stiles?"

"Well - there may have been a complication. And all of the bins have been knocked over on the way to my house. And, I've kind of driven into the patch of woods behind my house, which was probably stupid considering that's where are parents are going, but maybe the ash line will protect us…. ummm, we may or may not be surrounded by weird little tree thingies that are bowtruckles, apparently? You might want to come here."

Scott is already running. "I'll be there soon. I'm bringing the Argents."

He hangs up and dials Allison's number, tamping down vague jealousy at her teaming up with Isaac for patrol. Although these days he's not sure which of the two he's jealous of - Isaac has, well grown on Scott recently. In weird ways that he's not going to think about now because there are more important things going on. Yep.

 

~

 

"Scott? Hey. Just checking up on you guys."

"We're fine, mum, just watching a movie."

Melissa snorts derisively at the blatant lie. "I can literally hear cars driving past you. And it sounds like you're running? What's happening?"

"Mum, no, it's fine. Okay we're not at home. We're just - well…"

"Scott, there's something moving out there and we're getting a bit freaked out. Just tell me."

Scott clears his throat awkwardly.

"Uh… we may have asked Derek to tail you guys and make sure nothing horrible happens? Aaaaaand I may be out patrolling the town?"

Melissa can't help it - she laughs until she can't breathe. There's just something so funny about the _True Alpha_ being this scared of his human mother, the way everything comes out as a question. And Derek _tailing_ them?

"Are you trying to tell me that - _Derek Hale_ is running behind our car? And we thought he was a fox?"

"He can probably hear you, mum!" Scott whines, which only makes Melissa laugh harder. John looks at her curiously, grinning because Melissa's laugh is seriously infectious.

"Stiles told you about the mountain ash, right? Just get inside his house, like, ASAP, and you don't have to worry about anything."

Melissa rolls her eyes at John. "You know that won't stop us worrying about you kids. And tell Derek not to lurk around the house while we're in there unless he wants to listen to us - "

Scott cuts in with a gagging sound. "I don't want to know! Just - enjoy your date, okay? I have to go before you scar me for life, oh my _God._ "

 

~

Parrish has had a pretty average night on duty. He arrests someone for drink driving, taking a moment to memorise the guy's face, because everyone knows _everyone_ in this town. He's considering stopping for donuts (shut up, the stereotype exists for a reason, okay? Donuts are the best) when he gets a call about a groups of kids running down the street, knocking over bins and wrecking mailboxes. Although judging by the vague description of the 'kids,' this could turn out to be a little more complicated.

Sighing, he drives past the donut place and heads towards the Preserve side of Beacon Hills.

~

 

"Why are all the bins knocked over?" Melissa gestures at the sidewalk as they get closer to the Stilinski house.

John glances at the naturestrip.

"I don't know, and frankly, Melissa, I don't care right now. It sounds like the whole pack is out there tonight, and Parrish is on duty tonight, who I suspect knows more than he lets on. Beacon Hills will be fine without us for one night."

Melissa grins at him as they pull in to the driveway.

"You sure about that? The Sheriff and the only qualified nurse in town, gone for a whole night? Anything could happen…"

John winks at her. "You're right. Anything could happen."

Inwardly, Melissa cheers. She's getting laaaid tonight.


	6. a flesh wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, we need to do research. But if either Stiles or I leave this circle…" She gestures at the bowtruckles with a sharp pink stiletto. The bowtruckles are getting restless, looking for things to destroy. Derek sighs, apologising to the city council in advance for the stupid amount of property damage they will probably have to deal with. Bowtruckles are pretty slow to decide what to do, but once they have decided, they can be a pain in the ass.
> 
> Speaking of things - and people - that are a pain in the ass, Derek figures they have three options - "We can try Deaton, Argent's bestiary, and Peter. One of them has to know how to deal with this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with mild Sterek undertones ;)

  
  
Stiles and Lydia make a break for the line of mountain ash before the bow truckles can get much closer, Stiles earning a gash across his back for his efforts. A well-aimed stiletto wards off one bowtruckle who goes for Lydia, which figures, really.    
  
Panting, they stop over the line and watch as the bow truckles try and - thankfully - fail to cross over it.    
  
"Here's hoping none of them are _made_ from mountain ash," Lydia points out, smacking Stiles with her remaining shoe for no reason that he could fathom.   
  
"Ooow, hey, I'm _injured,_ Lydia, lay off!"   
  
She makes a face at him before sighing and taking a look at the scratch down his back.   
  
"You'll be fine, idiot. Them, on the other hand…"   
  
They both turn around and Stiles swears profusely. Through the trees, they can see Boyd and Erica are already fighting with the weird little tree dudes. And they're standing on top of his _Jeep._   
  
"Lead them away from my baby!" Stiles yells across at them, and - " _ow!_ What was that for?"    
  
Lydia is brandishing her shoe at him again. "Your parents are home! Do you _want_ them to know we're here?"   
  
  
  
~   
  
  
  
Melissa and the Sheriff are safely inside the house, and Derek runs silently around the back to meet the others.   
  
Following the line of mountain ash, he sees a group of bowtruckles gathered at a random spot - oh, they're staring at Stiles and Lydia, unable to pass the line. The only sounds they make are the creaking of wood against wood and the rustling of leaves. Creepy.   
  
He approaches slowly, trying not to spook the bowtruckles. They don't seem to take an interest in him, since _he_ wasn't stupid enough to invade their territory, unlike some _teenagers_ he somehow managed to burden himself with.    
  
" _Stiles."_ He says quietly, faintly aware of Melissa and the Sheriff moving around in the house not too far away. He isn't entirely sure how far human hearing actually goes, and never wanted to ask.   
  
"Derek, heey buddy!"   
  
Stiles lifts his arm to wave, and winces. Derek catches the scent of blood and growls. "You're hurt."   
  
"It's just a flesh wound!" Stiles starts staggering around in a vague impression of The Black Knight, but Derek pretends not to get it. Stiles _hates_ it when people don't get his pop culture references.   
  
Sure enough, Stiles is still complaining about his humour being wasted on _heathens_ like Lydia and Derek, as Derek tells Lydia they need to look up the proper way to negotiate with bowtruckles.   
  
"There's usually a present involved, like for faeries they're usually happy with something shiny…"    
  
Lydia rolls her eyes as if to say, of _course_  faeries exist. "So, we need to do research. But if either Stiles or I leave this circle…" She gestures at the bowtruckles with a sharp pink stiletto. The bowtruckles are getting restless, looking for things to destroy. Derek sighs, apologising to the city council in advance for the stupid amount of property damage they will probably have to deal with. Bowtruckles are pretty slow to decide what to do, but once they have _decided,_ they can be a pain in the ass.   
  
Speaking of things - and people -  that are a pain in the ass, Derek figures they have three options - "We can try Deaton, Argent's bestiary, and Peter. One of them has to know how to deal with this."


	7. 90s kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe, if he asserts his territory as an Alpha - True Alpha, actually - they'll get scared and bugger off?
> 
> He takes a deep breath, and roars, and - all Hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 2am here, i don't know what i'm doing any more :D

~   
  
  
"Uhh… Stiles told me to tell you that _I_ set this up but.. I think it's pretty clear that I didn't."   
  
The Sheriff gestures at the living room vaguely. He doesn't know where all those cushions came from, and he supposes he's meant to light the candles that are set up around the room.    
  
Beside him, Melissa is quietly laughing. John can't bring himself to care about how tacky and weird this whole thing is, if it makes her laugh like that.    
  
He grins and sets off around the room, lighting the candles carefully - but really, some of them are just fire hazards, so he removes them. Meanwhile, Melissa has spotted the CD player.    
  
"Oh my _God,_ how old do they think we are? 80s love songs? They do realise they were all concieved in the 90s, right?"   
  
John laughs, flipping through the stack of CDs, and a thought strikes him. "Maybe _Derek_ chose them!"   
  
They giggle like schoolkids, and eventually John goes upstairs to find some decent music. Admittedly, it is a nice set up. They open a glass of wine and settle down on the couch, and it's nice. It's even - dare he say it - _romantic._   
  
At one point, John thinks he hears a very Alpha werewolf-like roar faintly over the music, but you know what? It was probably just a motorbike revving, or a bear. Or something.   
  
  
_~_   
  
  
Scott arrives a few minutes after Derek, whining in distress at the sight of the bowtruckles rocking Stiles's Jeep, Boyd and Erica digging their claws in and growling at them from the roof.    
  
Derek nods at him as he passes by, talking to Lydia about how Deaton shouldn't be asleep, but if he's not picking up his phone, then they may as well call the Argents - "they're here," Scott calls out. "Allison and her dad are on their way. Isaac is with them."   
  
Derek looks a bit constipated, but that's no different to usual. "Can you tell them to bring the bestiary? We can negotiate with the bowtruckles, hopefully _before_ they start wandering back down the street."   
  
Scott nods and salutes, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He spots Stiles sitting on the ground looking miserable. "Stiles, you okay dude?"   
  
Stiles nods and smiles forlornly. "My Jeep is going to need repairs _again._ "   
  
Scott tries to look sympathetic, but he's more worried about the people on _top_ of the Jeep right now.    
  
"Scott?"   
  
He jumps at her voice, having forgotten about dialing her number.   
  
"Allison! Hey. Um, Derek says, can you bring the bestiary? We need to know how to negotiate with the…  tree things."   
  
"Bowtruckles!" Derek calls out, and Scott can practically hear him rolling his eyes.   
  
"Yeah, the.. bowtruckles" Scott repeats to Allison.

"Okay, we're on it. Shouldn't be too long. How are things on your end?"   
  
"They seem pretty tame, nobody is really hurt... yet. These little dudes are weird. Pretty slow moving."   
  
Scott eyes the group of tree-dudes, none of their - branches? Heads? - extending past shoulder height. They don't look so scary. Sure, sharp branch-y fingers, but…   
  
"Okay, see you soon." Allison says.    
  
"Yep, seeya."    
  
Scott hangs up, waves to Erica and Boyd, and shifts to beta form, turning his red eyes onto the tree-dudes. Maybe, if he asserts his territory as an Alpha - _True_ Alpha, actually - they'll get scared and bugger off?   
  
He takes a deep breath, and roars, and - all Hell breaks loose.


	8. hear me roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott roars, and the bowtruckles freak the fuck out. Stiles watches with detached horror as some of them start swiping lightning fast at Boyd and Erica's feet, some of them hammer at the the invisible mountain ash barrier, some of them amble off to just kind of - destroy things that Scott has just signalled as being his territory (nice one, Scott). They're trying to push down the fence between Stiles's house and poor old Mrs. Jenkins's house (thank God she's hard of hearing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Alex, who requested Agnes Jenkins and her knitting/Deaton appreciation club. 
> 
> I named Margery's cat after one of Mrs. Figg's cats because reasons

  
Agnes Jenkins is about to leave for 'knitting' club (a _very_ clever euphemism for drinking sherry and drooling over the local veterinarian) when she hears a _roar_ from outside _._ She picks up her phone on the way to the window, dialling with one hand and sipping a glass of sherry with her other hand. Hey, don't judge. That's the hip thing to do these days, right? Pre-drinks?  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Margery!" Agnes crows gleefully down the phone. "You'll never guess what I'm looking at."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"There are bowtruckles trying to knock over my fence!"  
  
"Really? How delightful," Margery chuckles.  
  
"That Stilinski boy must have threatened their territory." Agnes rolls her eyes, watching as the new Hale pack (or is it the McCall pack now? One can never tell these days) continues to be completely incompetent. "I think we should knit his pack some protection charms tonight. They really are very bad at fighting."  
  
"Well, this is certainly one to tell the girls," Margery giggles. "I must tell you about my trip to Deaton's office as well, he was wearing this _gorgeous_ sweater, and I think he knew that Tibbles wasn't _really_ sick, but he humoured me…"  
  
~  
  
Scott roars, and the bowtruckles _freak the fuck out._  Stiles watches with detached horror as some of them start swiping lightning fast at Boyd and Erica's feet, some of them hammer at the the invisible mountain ash barrier, some of them amble off to just kind of - _destroy_ things that Scott has just signalled as being his territory (nice one, Scott). They're trying to push down the fence between Stiles's house and poor old Mrs. Jenkins's house (thank God she's hard of hearing).  
  
Derek is yelling at Scott and Lydia is yelling down the phone at somebody, probably Peter. Allison, Isaac and Chris Argent emerge from the field at the side of Stiles's house like total badasses and start throwing flashy explode things at the bowtruckles, and, basically, Stiles has no idea what's happening any more.  
  
He's watching Allison shoot flashing arrows at the bowtruckles, when Stiles realises - the fireworks are still in his car! If the bowtruckles hate the light and the heat - which would make sense, since forest fires are probably their biggest predators - fireworks would be a good weapon against them, right?  
  
And they're going to need something soon, because the bowtruckles basically have swords for fingers, and swords and werewolves? Not a good mix. Scott, Derek and Isaac are putting all their energy into _dodging_ the things - how did they get that fast?  
  
"This is ridiculous," Stiles mutters to himself. "Boyd! Erica! The fireworks are in my car! The bowtruckles hate heat and light!"  
  
He watches Boyd lift a hand in acknowledgement, but he doesn't get a chance to watch them try out his idea, because at that moment he notices one of the bowtruckles stepping  _over_ the mountain ash line. It's bigger than the others, because this is _Stiles's_ life, and it's heading right at him.  
  
Nobody else has noticed yet, and Stiles stumbles, backing away from the bowtruckle.   
  
" _Lydia!"_  
  
He hisses over his shoulder - maybe if he's quiet, it'll decide to destroy something else? He hears a squeak from behind him, glances back to see Lydia hang up on Peter and back away. Unlike Stiles, Lydia doesn't panic immediately, and she calls out - "Allison! Chris! One got past the mountain ash!"  
  
But Allison and Chris are pretty far away, and the bowtruckle is awfully close. Stiles wishes he'd grabbed his baseball bat.


	9. frantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a warning, this is kinda gory i guess (nothing more gory than the show)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who was reading for Shelissa/McLinski/whatever we're calling it, I'm sorry this has happened to you. Next chapter is Shelissa I PROMISE

Sties has this brief kind of out-of-body experience, where he can see everything happening from above. The pack is still fighting, their eyes trained on him, cringing every time he stumbles, clumsily backing away from the bowtruckle - they can probably hear his heart beating fast as he scrambles to find a weapon. Allison and Chris are sprinting towards him, blasting a path through the bowtruckles, and he watches himself trip, land on his ass. What an idiot.  
  
Lydia is yelling at him to get up, tugging his arm, and it feels like she's tugged him back into his body because he's suddenly right _there_ , not looking down at himself, and he's _scared,_ because the fingers on the bowtruckle are _really_ fucking sharp, and the werewolves can't cross the mountain ash, and Allison is shooting the bowtruckle but it doesn't seem to care, just stares at him with creepy, empty, beady eyes.  
  
They're all yelling at him, frantic, but he knows what comes next.  
  
He's not quite prepared for the pain of it, and he chokes a little as two wooden, pointed fingers rip through his flesh. He grimaces up at Lydia and says "Oh, look at that, I've been impaled." Her dislike of Frozen overrides her worry for the two seconds it takes to roll her eyes. Stiles groans as the bowtruckles shifts, Lydia drops to her knees and cradles his head. There's something important - there's - his dad is on a _date,_ and Stiles is going to ruin it by fucking  _dying._  
  
"Lydia, tell my dad I'm sorry, please, I never.. tell him I'm sorry."  
  
She shushes him, "Don't talk, Stiles," and Stiles feels himself slipping out of consciousness. It's bad, he knows, but he wants out, he wants to rest, so he closes his eyes against the pain and light - are they fireworks? - and lets go, thinking _dad, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..._


	10. hurt by love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weird mix of angst and middle aged romance
> 
> 'Night Nurse':  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6oYyG0KcvQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where exactly everything is happening (ie. why hasn't the Sheriff noticed an epic battle happening a few hundred metres away), well the answer is, i've lost control of my life :)
> 
> unbeta'ddddd

"Oh God - I'm so sorry - "  
  
Melissa stares in horror at the red stain spreading over the carpet. Fucking wine. John just laughs, dropping his head onto her shoulder.   
  
"It was my fault," he admits, "I'm way too uncoordinated for this."  
  
Melissa snorts. "I wonder how many cops out there are too uncoordinated for slow dancing. They should add it to the police academy tests."  
  
"Oh, shush you," John grumbles, as he heads to the kitchen for something to clean up the wine.   
  
Melissa sits on the couch, considers her iPod. They'd scrounged an iPod dock from Stiles's room, because they may be old(er), but they're not stupid. And Melissa totally owns an iPod. Take that, youth!   
  
"I'm bored of slow dancing!" Melissa announces, but snickers as her eyes fall on the perfect song - Gregory Isaacs' "Night Nurse," and, no, they _have_ to dance to this. It's too funny.  
  
John throws some paper towel on the spilt wine and Melissa grabs his hands, puts them on her waist. "What is this?" John asks, scrunching up his nose.   
  
"Just wait for it…"  
  
  
~

  
Derek can only stare in horror as the bowtruckle advances on Stiles. Human Stiles. Human Stiles, who doesn't even have a fucking  _baseball bat_ to use as a weapon, and Derek can't protect him because of that fucking line of mountain ash. He finds himself growling, burning himself on the ash barrier as he inadvertently steps closer to Stiles.  Scott is whining in distress as he wards off bowtruckles and watches his best friend at the same time. Fear and panic thrums through the pack bond, their eyes all trained on Stiles. Erica and Boyd are frantically trying to scare off the bowtruckles at the Jeep with those stupid fireworks, trying to get closer to their pack. Derek can't take it - he can't take standing by and watching Stiles get killed by a sentient  _tree._  
  
"Chris!" He calls out as Chris runs past, "break the line! Break the mountain ash line!"   
  
"Derek, if I do that,  _all_ of these things will go after Stiles and Lydia. No."  
  
They argue about it, and Derek yells and growls and punches bowtruckles in frustration, but his heart isn't really in it. He's forced to watch and do nothing. Chris doesn't get there in time, can only shoot the bowtruckle's arm off from yards away. There's so much blood, Derek can smell it. His heart is still pumping, but Derek knows that Stiles's name will soon join the long list of people Derek has basically killed, just by existing. He should have tried harder to push the kid away; he should have kept him safe.

Boyd and Erica are letting fireworks off into the sky - he isn't sure if they're aiming at the bowtruckles and failing completely, or attempting to send Stiles off with something pretty in his eyes. The pack starts to howl mournfully; Derek throws his head back and howls with them.  


~  
  
  
"Night nu-urse!" Melissa warbles, swinging John around the lounge room. "Only you alone can quench this here thi-iirst."   She winks at John and laughs at the way he blushes. "Come on John, this song was _made_ for us! I'm a nurse? Get it? Night nurse?"  
  
"Oh my God," John laugh-groans, pulls her closer. But after two verses, he remembers the words (yeah, shut up, the 80s were a weird time).  
  
"Niiiight nu-urse," They're singing and laughing and dancing in circles to the tacky electric keyboard, "only you along can quench this here thi-iirst…"  
  
Melissa grabs John's belt loops, moving his hips with hers.  "My night nu-urse! Oh, the pa-ain is getting worse…"  
  
Melissa doesn't remember the rest of the words, so she leans in close - she really wants to kiss this big nerd of a Sheriff.  
  
"Is this okay?" She asks. John cups her cheek in one big hand, grins, and kisses her first.  
  
He breaks apart only to join Gregory Isaacs in his last refrain - "Night nu-urse…"

Melissa giggles, punches him in the arm, and kisses him some more. They're still making out like a pair of teenagers when they hear banging and popping sounds from outside. They break apart, suddenly tense and afraid.  
  
"Gunshots?" Melissa whispers.  
  
Sheriff mode immediately switched on, John pushes Melissa down beside the couch and sticks low and close to the walls to get to the lounge room window. He peeks through the curtains and - "Mel, it wasn't gunshots, it was fireworks!" He laughs in relief as Melissa joins him at the window. Feeling too jumpy to fully open the curtains, they stand at one side of the window and look up at the reds, blues and greens bursting in front of the stars.  
  
"If Scott and Stiles are responsible for the heart attack I just had, I'm gonna kill them," Melissa mutters mutinously.   
  
"I'll help you hide the bodies," John agrees, rolling his eyes and sighing. "But let's not talk about Stiles now, please?"  
  
He smiles, watching the lights of the fireworks play over her face, before leaning in for another kiss.

  
  
~

  
  
_"Stiles!"_   
  
Allison feels her stomach heave, her breath coming ragged, but pushes forward. She needs to get there before the bowtruckle pulls away - keep the wounds closed, stem the bleeding - she needs to chop its arm off somehow, _shit._  
  
Allison reaches into her quiver for fire starting arrows and lets 4 off into the back of the bow truckle, whispering apologies to Stiles as it staggers forward, driving its sharp fingers further into him.  
  
"Dad, its arms! Shoot them off!"   
  
She hears the rattle of gunfire and sees the bowtruckle's arm splinter, even as the leaves on its back start to catch fire. The bowtruckle makes an angry, wooden creaking sound, like lightning splitting a tree trunk, and it flails backwards. Allison sobs, tasting bile in the back of her throat as she watches one of its wooden fingers drag out of Stiles's abdomen, attached to the bowtruckle's arm by a splinter. She catches Lydia's eye, where she's cradling Stiles's head, and sees her fear reflected there.  
  
The bowtruckle is thrashing on the ground, burning up with an agonised screech, and Allison kicks it away from Stiles viciously. She's afraid to check his pulse, afraid to touch him because she knows she's too late, too weak, too useless, too _human_ and she can't save him. She hears the whole pack howling mournfully, unable to cross the mountain ash and forced to dodge attacks from the other bowtruckles. And there are fireworks? There's no point questioning things at this point. Allison feels like her whole world has turned upside down.  
  
"Allison! _Help me,"_ Lydia sobs, and Allison snaps out of her reverie, ripping off her jacket and putting it over Lydia's hands. She's crying and covered in blood, her shaking hands trying to stem the blood flow. Allison presses her jacket against the hole in Stiles's abdomen, but doesn't know what to do next.  
  
"Allison! Allison, take him to my mum! She's in the house!" Allison looks up at Scott, nods wordlessly, and starts to gather him in her arms, trying not to jostle the piece of wood still impaled in him. She feels a warm hand at her elbow, looks up to see dad reaching out to take Stiles from her.  
  
 _"Dad,"_ She lets out a sob on his name and clutches her friend tighter.  
  
"I know, Allison, but let me help you," dad says firmly, and she nods, and he takes Stiles in his arms, and Allison finally lets her tears fall.


	11. which came first, the phoenix or the flame?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He takes in the situation quickly - bowtruckles stuck behind an invisible barrier, werewolves also stuck behind said barrier, fireworks going off in the sky (seriously, what the heck?), bowtruckle rolling around the ground on fire, people huddled around someone lying prone on the grass - shit.

Jordan follows the trail of overturned bins, oddly enough, to the Sheriff's house. He gets out of his patrol car to the sound of gunfire, and runs around the side of the house, taking care not to break the line of mountain ash as he jumps over it, running past the Sheriff's house and onto the field behind it.

He takes in the situation quickly - bowtruckles stuck behind an invisible barrier, werewolves also stuck behind said barrier, fireworks going off in the sky (seriously, what the heck?), bowtruckle rolling around the ground on fire, people huddled around someone lying prone on the grass - shit.

He sprints towards them, two young girls with blood on their hands, and skids to a stop in front of the man, who's carrying - "Shit, is that the Sheriff's son?"

Everyone is staring at him, confused, slightly panicked, and he holds out his hands, palms up.

"I know about the supernatural, and I can help Stiles." He says, slowly approaching the man holding the teenage boy. "Put him on the ground and show me where he's hurt." The other man has his eyes narrowed skeptically. "Trust me."

"Dad, we don't have time - " the brunette girl pushes at the man's arms, and they lower Stiles to the ground carefully. The barefooted girl beckons Jordan over and shows him a gaping wound in the kid's abdomen. Jordan rips the t-shirt out of his way and fumbles for his emergency vial.

"What is that?" The barefooted girl demands as Jordan pours the clear, salty liquid over the stab wound, making sure to keep some for the other wound.

"Phoenix tears."

 

~

 

 

Phoenix tears?   
  
_Like in Harry Potter_ , Lydia's mind supplies in Stiles's voice, of course it's Stiles's voice in her head and his blood on her hands and _yes_ she knows she's slightly hysterical, her friend is _dying,_ she has every _right_ to be hysterical.   
  
She watches Stiles's wound knit together, watches Parrish's brow furrow in concentration. It all feels slightly unreal as she looks up at Allison, then at Scott a few meters back - and Derek, who is snarling at Parrish because _of course he is._   
  
"Hey," Parrish is making steady eye contact with her. "We need to get this out of him if I'm going to heal the wound. I need you to pull it out while I pour this in," wiggling the vial of tears at her. Phoenix tears _._ Right. And…   
  
Pull out the wooden stake that's lodged in Stiles's abdomen. Piece of cake.   
  
"Hey," Parrish is speaking again and Lydia realises she's just been staring at the wooden…finger? and freaking out, thinking about how much more blood Stiles can afford to lose before he'll need a transfusion. "He's going to be okay," Parrish says, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She can't tear her eyes away from his - they're pretty, but more than that, they're… honest. "You can do this. Would he do it for you?"   
  
Lydia chokes out a laugh, because is that even a question? Stiles would do this and more to save her, to save anyone, he'd already done more than this to save _Ethan_ for fuck's sake.   
  
The thought fills her until there's nothing else left - nothing to do but take hold of the splintered wood, and pull.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously the phoenix!Parrish theory is not mine (i saw it here - http://freckled-stars.tumblr.com/post/92817179134/deputy-jordan-parrish-is-indeed-a-phoenix)
> 
> originally I was actually going to write Parrish as a faerie, but I love Phoenix!Parrish way too much not to use it. 
> 
> Yes, he does collect his own tears in a little vial so he can heal people if he ever needs to. Because I LOVE things that are simultaneously very creepy and very cute
> 
> EDIT: I also think that Parrish's pep talk superpowers are actually a thing. Like when Fawkes sings in HP and everyone feels better and more focused/energised afterwards?


	12. everything is going wrong (but we're so happy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's angst, dramatic pulling out of the bowtruckle finger (ie. Lydia getting shit done), Sheriff and Melissa are adorable

Derek knows on some level that he's being ridiculous - this Deputy guy has no reason to harm his boss's son, and the phoenix tears appear to be working, and Stiles _isn't dead yet_ by some miracle - but he can't help it, this random guy getting so close to a pack member when they're so vulnerable. Having Argent touch him was bad enough, but Derek at least _knows_ him. The Deputy - well, Derek can't help snarling at him. He doesn't trust pretty people any more.   
  
"Derek!" Scott interrupts Derek's snarling and points - and thank _fuck,_ Derek has never been so glad to see this cryptic bastard. Deaton is hurrying over, a bundle cradled in his arms - maybe Deaton will know the words, how to make peace? There's an old lady hobbling along behind Deaton and Derek growls in frustration - they don't have _time_ for old ladies.   
  
"Mrs. Jenkins?" Scott says incredulously.    
  
"Hello dearie," the old lady's voice is louder than Derek expected, and he jumps. She laughs at his scowl, then scowls back at him, and Derek suddenly feels like he's being scolded. "That poor Stilinksi boy is going to need a place to stay after what happened. Your pack needs better protection!"   
  
She thinks they don't _know_ that? Derek wants to scream at her, he is _so, so aware_ of how fragile they are - how fragile _Stiles_ is, he's _human_ , and Derek couldn't protect him tonight - but she reminds him so much of his grandmother, who always hated yelling.    
  
Deaton must sense Derek's inner conflict, because he interrupts.   
  
"I have the offering. Whoever intruded on their territory needs to offer this to them and I will negotiate." He turns to Scott, a flicker of concern betrayed in his eyes. "Stiles?"   
  
"He's alive," Scott says uncertainly. "That new Deputy turned up with some healing thing."   
  
"Phoenix tears," Derek growls. "Erica and Boyd can make the offering. Let's do it."

  
~  
  
Allison wants to look away - but it seems disrespectful, somehow, and Lydia needs the support. Her hands are covered in blood, pink nail polish stained red, but her breathing is steady as she slides the piece of wood out of Stiles. Deputy Parrish slowly pours the phoenix tears into the wound, and tries to prevent splinters coming off the wood… Allison feels weak at the thought of Stiles's body healing with splinters _stuck inside._  
  
None of them, it seems, were prepared for Stiles to wake up.  
  
It happens slowly - they can hear him groaning and whimpering in pain when they hit the halfway point. Allison drops to her knees beside him. "Jesus _Christ,_ please don't wake up," she mutters, but his eyes are fluttering.  
  
"Almost there," Parrish says quietly. "Almost - "  
  
A sharp gasp of pain from Stiles announces his alertness. Allison hears the pack whine in response, and she finds Stiles's hand, lets him crush her fingers. His eyes are glassy with pain when she looks down.  
  
"Oh God - Stiles, I'm sorry.." Lydia has paused for a moment, but steels herself and keeps pulling, listening to quiet encouragement from the Deputy. This time Stiles screams, reflexively trying to wriggle away from Lydia, and the pack howls in response - Allison feels tears sliding down her cheeks as she pins him down.   
  
"Stop it, Stiles!" Lydia snaps, her voice brittle. Stiles groans, tugs on Allison's hand - _"Get Scott,"_ he chokes out. "Pain-suck."  
  
 _Oh._  
  
Allison looks up, finds Scott's eyes. He's stuck behind the ash barrier, but it looks like the bowtruckles have calmed down - it's probably safe -  
  
She pulls Stiles's hand off hers, mumbling vague reassurances, and stands on shaky feet. Dad takes her place, gives Stiles his wrist to clamp down on, keeping an eye on Parrish - he wants to reassure Allison, but she's already gone.   


 

~

 

The world crystallises when Scott finally,  _finally_ gets there and takes Stiles's pain. He can see Lydia, pale, mascara-streaked and determined, and Scott grinning down at him.   
  
"Ooooh man, dude, I love you, hnnng..."   
  
Stiles at least has enough brain-to-mouth filter left to _not_ compare this to sex, but - this is better than sex.   
  
"Yeah, like you have any experience to compare it to." Scott is giggling slightly hysterically.    
  
"…Did I say that out loud?"   
  
"Did that thing hit you in the head before it gutted you?"   
  
"Ah, fuck you Scott." he snorts out a weak laugh. "Where is everyone? Shouldn't they all be here weeping over my untimely demise?"   
  
"You're not gonna die Stiles, Jesus _Christ,"_ and Stiles would really like to agree with him, but a piece of wood just went _all the way through his body,_ and he's not in hospital yet, so…   
  
"Did you _bite_ me?"   
  
"No! This guy has some healing thingy," Stiles cranes his neck, ignoring Lydia's admonishment. And - that's the new Deputy. As in, the Deputy from the Sheriff's station. Where Stiles's dad is the Sheriff! Ugh.    
  
"Oi! You, Deputy of the pretty eyes and the nice butt, if my dad hears _one word_ about this, they will never find your body, you hear me?"   
  
The new Deputy just huffs out a laugh, and keeps concentrating on what he's doing - which Stiles is _not_ going to look at - but Lydia actually _snarls_ at him, so Stiles shuts up and focuses on not getting a fear-boner, because _Lydia._ Oh my God.   
  
Scott is talking again. "Deaton turned up and they're negotiating with the bowtruckles now. Oh - wait, I think they're done!! Guys, give him some space!"   
  
Stiles blinks up at the pack, grinning lazily, high on werewolf mojo. Hopefully he doesn't get addicted to Scott, hehe. But everyone looks way too grumpy, especially, of course, the grumpiest of grumpy cats - wolves? - grumpy Hale. Sour Derek. Wait, that's not right.    
  
"Sour _wolf,"_ Stiles slurs happily. "Stop being so grumpy. All of you. You're giving me a stomachache!"    
  
"Nope," Scott scowls, "that's just me slowing down on the pain-suck. You are way too high right now, man. Besides, it's almost done."   
  
Stiles makes the mistake of looking down at his stomach - the bowtruckle finger is tapering off, making it easier to yank out. There's blood everywhere, and yeah, this seems like a good time to pass out again.   


 

~

  
The fireworks were kind of cute, sure, but they really don't want more reminders of the outside world and all its horrors. So Melissa grabs the iPod, John grabs the wine, and they head up to the bedroom and start blasting Pink Floyd at full volume.   
  
"That mountain ash circle was actually a really good idea," John admits, speaking directly into Melissa's ear over the music. She shivers at the sensation, and nods.  
  
"Yeah, it's really nice to just forget about the world for a bit. And the wine really helps me to stop worrying about the boys," she laughs and flops down on the bed. "Let's... cuddle for a bit, yeah?"   
  
John grins, lies down on the bed and holds out his left arm. "C'mere," he mutters, and he's blushing, which will always be adorable as heck.  
  
Melissa lies down on his arm, curls into his torso, soaks up the warmth. She hums with satisfaction. "Better than sex," she mutters.  
  
John snorts, then outright laughs - and suddenly they're both laughing, and can't stop - it wasn't even that funny but it was so  _accurate_ on some level that John suddenly kind of feels like crying. But they both just keep laughing, and it's perfect. Everything is perfect.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo I'm sorry for this "chapter" (i hesitate to call it that because it is truly a mess). I really don't know what I'm doing except that I have one week break from uni and i don't want to orphan this fanfic. 
> 
> Also I'm putting off writing a Sheriff and Melissa sex scene because they're old and it might be weird? I don't know. 
> 
> not beta'd :(


End file.
